Hair
by Fancy
Summary: **Now Complete** Ken's hair is eerily shiny, Omi has a sense of foreboding, Aya is VERY tired, and Yohji... Yohji is out for blood. Chapter Eight: The EXCI-I-TING CONCLUSION!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer:  I don't own Weiss Kreuz.  I am not profiting off of this… this… odd, odd THING I've created.  I also don't own Windex, for those interested.

Ken's hair was shiny.  

Ken's hair was _very_ shiny.  Abnormally shiny.  Ken's hair had the glimmer of a professional model, which was unusual.  Not to say that Ken's hair was nasty or greasy, but it usually only had a dull shine that showed that he washed it on occasion.  But this, this shine was…preternatural.  This shine bounced the morning sun back into Omi's eyes so fiercely that it almost _hurt_.  

Yes, Ken's hair was shiny.  And Ken knew it.  Omi could tell, because every once in a while, he would grin almost proudly and run a hand through it.  

Omi had had a sense of foreboding all morning.  The sun was shining brightly, there had been actual paying customers in and out of the flower shop all morning, he'd eaten a full, good breakfast, slept well, it was a beautiful Saturday—in short, everything _should_ have been fine.  But everything was _not_ fine.  He didn't know yet what it was, but he could feel that something bad was going to happen that day.  

He frowned, worried.  He hoped that Manx wouldn't show up that day—he didn't want his bad feeling to translate into someone's untimely death or anything.  In fact, he hoped that nothing at all would happen that day.  He hoped that he was crazy.  He—

His brooding was prematurely ended by the sound of Ken laughing—no, _giggling_ from across the store.  

Ken stood in front of the window, a bottle of Windex in one hand, with a roll of paper towels on the floor beside him.  

At first Omi thought something was going on outside—maybe there were some little kids doing something funny?—only to realize a moment later, to his horror, that Ken was not looking _out_ the window, but rather _at_ the window.  Or, more correctly, at his reflection in the window.  

Ken giggled again and rotated his head to a different angle, eyes never leaving his reflection.  

"Ken…" Omi started to say, only to have the older man turn sharply toward him.  

"Ne, Omi?  Do I look any _different_ to you today?" he asked with a hint of mischief in his voice.  

"D-different?" Omi asked, bewildered.  

Ken ignored the other boy's fright and turned back to the window again for a moment.  After a few more seconds, he turned around again, stooping over to pick up the paper towels as he did so.  His hair fell artfully over his eyes as he did this.  

It was like a commercial, Omi realized dully.  The sunlight streaming in, the hair falling…  All it needed was for Ken to return to a standing position with a product in hand.  

Ken stood back up, grinning, Windex in one hand, paper towels in the other.  

"Come on, don't you notice anything at _all_, Omi?"  

"Like what?" 

Ken ran a hand through his hair again and cleared his throat.  

"Okay, I'll bite.  Your hair is really _shiny_, Ken.  What gives?"  

Ken then ran up to the counter, dropping both Windex and paper towels in his excitement.  He leaned over the counter at Omi and giggled again—Omi wished he would stop, it was rather disturbing.  

"Isn't it _pretty_, Omi?!" Ken asked with childish glee.  "My hair's never looked this good before!"  

"Ken, what did you do?" Omi asked cautiously, but was interrupted by Aya coming in from the direction of the kitchen.  

In a rather uncharacteristic show of weakness, Aya yawned hugely, blinked owlishly, and put up a hand to shield his eyes from the glare of Ken's hair.  

"Long night?" Ken chirped.  

"Couldn't put it down…" Aya muttered, moving next to Omi on the counter and dropping his head onto his arms.  

Ken and Omi blinked at each other.  

"Couldn't…  put… what down?"    

"Book."  

"What book?" Omi asked slowly.  

There was a pause.  Ken and Omi exchanged bewildered looks again.  

Hesitantly, Omi reached out and shook one of Aya's shoulders.  Aya started and jerked back into a standing position.  

"What?" he asked, looking around as if he expected Schwartz to appear out of the woodwork.   

Omi was starting to think that his feeling of foreboding was well founded.  This was confirmed once again a moment later by an ear drum-shattering scream which undoubtedly belonged to the fourth, eldest, and blondest member of Weiss.  Also, apparently, the one with the strongest vocal cords.  

The other three members of Weiss looked at each other with concern.  

"Should we…  maybe… go see what just happened?" Omi asked.  

Aya nodded.  Omi nodded.  Ken, not wanting to be left out, nodded.  

"I mean, after all, what if he fell down the stairs, right?" Omi asked

 "More likely that he cut himself shaving," Ken snickered.  "Can't you imagine it—'Ah!  My face, my beautiful face!'"  He snickered again.  

"That's not very nice, Ken, he could really be hurt—say, where is he?"  

Aya pointed up the stairs.  "Bathroom," he said.  

"Hmm…" Omi replied, starting up the stairs.  A moment later all three stood in front of the bathroom door.  Omi knocked cautiously.  

"Y-Yoji?" he asked.  "Are you all right in there?"  

No response.  

"Yoji?" he asked once again, looking concernedly around at Ken and Aya.  

The door swung in slowly, as if of its own accord.  When it finished its rotational path inward, it revealed a very irate looking Yoji, clad only in a bathrobe and a towel turban. 

Ken started another snicker, but then, seeing the look on Yoji's face, stifled it.  

Slowly, very slowly, and also very deliberately, Yoji raised his right arm, index finger extended in a very accusatory way.  He drew the arm around in an arc, pointing at each one of them in turn.  

"One of the personages assembled here," he said menacingly, "is a _thief_."  

Ken paled suddenly, turned, and fled down the stairs.  

"HIDAKA KEN!" Yoji shrieked in fury, starting after Ken's retreating form.  Omi, however, reached out and blocked Yoji's path.  

"What happened?" he asked.  "What did Ken do?"  

Yoji's face contorted in rage for a moment, and Omi shrunk away slightly, but when he refused to back down completely, Yoji's expression melted into one of reconciled sadness.  His lower lip quavered slightly.  

"Omiiiii," he whined.  "No one understands!"  

"No one understands _what_, Yoji?"  

"Curly hair!" he replied, eyes welling up with tears.  "It's just naturally so dry, Omi!  It's a condition I've dealt with ever since I was little, understand.  I thought I would never really be able to deal with it fully, until…  until the day my stylist recommended this conditioner to me!"  He grabbed the collar of Omi's shirt desperately.  "It worked miracles for me, Omi!  I haven't had a single day of frizzies since I've been on this conditioner!  But…  I only had a little bit left in this bottle.  I was going to go buy more today, but…"  He looked away and clenched his fists.  "But that damned Hidaka Ken _used it_."  

"Oh, come on Yoji.  It can't be _that_ bad, can it?  I'm sure your hair will be fine." 

 Yoji's eyes blazed with unholy fire.  

"You think so, Omi?  You wanna see what he's done to me?"

Omi swallowed, considered for a moment, and then slowly nodded.  

Yoji looked around suspiciously for a moment, before his eyes settled on something behind Omi.  Omi turned.  

There was Aya, leaning against the wall.  His head drooped to one side, and he was snoring very very softly.  

"…Fine," Yoji said at last.  "I'll let you see.  But _no one_," Yoji continued, gripping Omi's collar once again, "must hear of this.  Ever.  I have an image to maintain, understand?"  

Omi nodded violently, eyes going wide.  

Yoji's eyes flicked suspiciously across the hallway once more, before he finally sighed and lifted a hand to remove the towel.  Omi held his breath in anticipation as the towel slid off of Yoji's usually perfectly coiffed head.  

…Key word being "usually."  

However, at the moment, Yoji painted the perfect picture of what happens when a person sticks a finger into an electrical outlet.  It was like a mist of blonde hair, sticking out of his head almost horizontally.  Omi had no idea that any one person's hair could take up so much room.  "Volume" would be the wrong word to apply to this, because "volume" was one of those words he knew applied only to _good_ hair.  And sure, maybe this was good somewhere in the world.  Maybe some people in some far, far away tiny island country thought that blonde frizz was the sexiest thing in the world, but to Omi Yoji's hair just looked like that of a much loved, and much abused, doll.  

And because of this, Omi was having to try _very_ hard not to laugh.  

Yoji's face crumpled.  

"I knew it!  I look ridiculous!  I look like a _clown._" 

"Actually, you look like you rubbed balloons all over your head, and then—" 

"Shut up!  Shut up, shut up, shut up!  This is all KEN'S fault.  I can't be seen in public like this, Omi!"  

"Yoji, it's not really a big deal.  Look, just put your hair in a ponytail or something and go get more conditioner."  

"I _can't_.  It's already snapped three ties.  I'm doomed, Omi.  Nothing will work.  I'll just have to stay here for the rest of my life."  

"Yoji, it's not _that_ bad.  You can—"  

"This is all Ken's fault," Yoji interrupted, a sudden manic look in his eyes.  He took a menacing look forward.  Or at least it would have been menacing if he hadn't been dressed in a bathrobe.  And if his hair hadn't been sticking out a good six inches from either side of his head.  "Yes, this is all Ken's fault.  I will have my revenge," he continued, his tone icy.  

"Yoji, wait—" Omi started to say, but Yoji just ignored him and pushed past Omi in the direction of their rooms.  

"HIDAKA KEN _WILL _PAY FOR THIS!" was the last thing that Omi heard, other than the violent slamming of a door.  

Beside him, however, Aya started into wakefulness once again.  

"Oh, gosh," he said innocuously.  "Did I drift off again?"  

Yes, indeed, Omi now realized that his feelings of foreboding would be fulfilled before the day was through.  

            --------- 

            Notes on curly hair: Yes, this can happen.  I have seen it happen.  It has happened to me.  Frequently.  ::sob:: YOJI, I FEEL YOUR PAIN.  Anyway, the point is, I personally have given up using shampoo at all, and use conditioner exclusively.  Yes, yes, that sounds disgusting, but genuinely—my hair is so dry that it sucks it all up, and just getting it _wet_ cleans it sufficiently.  Curly hair is a finicky creature.     

Notes: I've given up trying to figure out where these things come from.   I don't know what this story is, or WHY, but I think it should be fairly short as far as Weiss Kreuz stories go.  Also note that this really will have no shounen-ai in it.  I think.  It's not that I'm against shounen-ai or anything, I'm just not good at writing it for W.K. -_-.  And I also tend to get very confused over which couples I like best O.o.   But enough about that—I can feel your interesting waning even as I speak.  Er, type.  Whatever.  Well, anyway, if your interest really _wasn't_ waning, and you actually REALLY REALLY want to talk to me about what Weiss Kreuz couples I favor, in if you just want to talk to me about anything at all…  or if you want to flame me until my eyeballs burn, you can do any of the above (or all of the above if you so desire) at sans_dio@yahoo.com  

Thanks for reading!  


	2. Chapter Two

            It was at this point in our story that Omi felt the necessity of returning to the Koneko.  After all, it was not especially wise to leave a popular shop alone for any extended period of time, much like he just had.  And who know where Ken had gone off to, by that point?  

Strangely, Omi found that Ken wasn't _too_ far away.  In fact, Omi found that Ken had hidden in a quite convenient spot, if a stupid one—behind the counter.  

"Omi, psst," he whispered when Omi slid around the counter.  "Is he…  Is he gone?  Calm?" 

Omi sighed.  

"Ken, don't worry about it, okay?  When he comes down, we'll just sit down and have a talk, and get this all straightened out, all right?  It will be fine.  Yoji is not going to kill you, don't worry."  

Ken swallowed and hung his shiny head.  

"I really hope you're right, Omi."  He paused and put a hand to his throat.  "I like living…"  

 "Ohh," Omi said, swatting him with a hand.  "Don't even pretend, Ken!  Yoji's not really _that_ angr—"  

There was a sudden crash from somewhere nearby.  Ken looked up at Omi, eyes wide.  

"Don't worry," Omi said cheerfully, not really sure if he believed himself.  "It'll be _fine_."  

And then the door opened, and there was Yoji, with a hat on his head.  It appeared that he had _tried _to stuff all of his hair into it, but little by little the unruly locks were escaping.  Oh, and also he had Aya in his arms.  Aya appeared to be asleep, again.  …How did he keep disappearing, anyway, Omi found himself wondering.  

"Omi!" Yoji said brightly.  "You haven't seen Ken in the last, oh, four minutes, have you?"  

Omi shook his head.  

"Oh, more's the pity, then.  …You lost this, by the way," he said, setting Aya down on the floor.  "God, has he been taking sleeping pills or something?—he's really out of it."  

Omi shrugged.  

"We never found out why he's so tired, but…  Yoji.  If Ken _were_ here, what would you do?" Omi asked nervously.  "You'd sit down with him to talk this out like _reasonable_ adults, right?"  

Yoji laughed.  

"You'd _think_ that, wouldn't you?  But, no.  I would find something much more creative to do."  Yoji smiled to himself and got a rather faraway look in his eyes.  "I would make him suffer.  You know, hold him down and shave his eyebrows off or something."  He laughed and assumed a thoughtful pose.  "Or maybe something else.  I'll know when I get a hold of the git, I'll tell you that much.  I trust inspiration to come on its own, Omi.  Now, if you'll excuse me," he paused to crack his knuckles, "I have a little worm to dig up."  

Yoji moved across the shop and towards the exit, but at that moment his hair chose to push the hat off of his head entirely.  It flew an impressive five feet away, and he turned and glowered fiercely at it.  

He took the few steps over to it and picked it up. 

"Did I mention that I'm going to hurt Ken _badly_?" he asked, returning it to his head.  

Omi nodded violently, plastering a smile on his face.  

Yoji turned to leave once more, and once more the hat decided that it didn't want to cooperate.  

_Sproing!_

And again, Yoji turned in the direction it had flown, suddenly looking psychotic.  

"Ooo-mi," he asked sweetly, stalking over to the hat again.  "Is there any _tape_ back there?"  

Omi opened a drawer.  

"…Duct," he said, holding up the roll of  thick grey tape.  

"Gimme," Yoji said, rushing over to Omi and grabbing the tape from his hand.  Behind the counter, Ken cowered in fear of being caught.  

Yoji ripped off two pieces of duct tape, and, pushing the hat back into place, proceeded to tape the edges to his face.  He laughed maniacally.  

"_Now _let's see you escape!" he cackled.  "And, for that matter, let's see _Ken_ try to escape!"  He went into another fit of maniacal laughter as he strode to the door.  Before leaving, he turned to Omi once more and saluted.  "See you later, Omittchi!"  

Omi nodded once again as the bells on the door jangled.    

 After a few moments, Ken stood up, fear etched onto his face.  

"Omi, what am I going to _do_?" he asked, allowing his head to drop onto the counter.  "I'm _so_ dead."  

"No!  Ken, don't you see?—he's gone now, we can just go buy more conditioner, and it's all good!"  

Ken looked at him with horror.  

"That's probably the first place he'll look for me, Omi!  I'm dead!"  

"Hmm… Maybe you're right." 

"I'll have to go into hiding, Omi, I'll—" 

"_Wait_!  I know!  We can send _Aya_ to get the conditioner, and you can go hide until this evening!"  

Ken's face went slack, and then suddenly he broke into a huge grin and grabbed Omi in a bone-crushing hug.  

"OMI!  You are such a little genius!" 

At that point, Ken hurried over to Aya and shook him awake again.  

"Aya!" he screeched.  "AYA!"  

Aya jumped.  

"No, Torrie,—" he started to say, but then stopped dead and blinked up at Ken.  His look shifted from surprise and shock into a death-glare as he got to his feet.  "What?" he asked Ken petulantly.  

Ken's eyes filled with tears, and he clung to the front of Aya's shirt.  

"You've got to help me!  Did you hear that?  Yoji's gonna kill me!  Please, please, Aya, you've got to go find this conditioner for me—for all of us—before it's too late!"  

Aya's eyes narrowed.  

"What do _I_ get out of it?" he asked.  

"My never-ending devotion?" 

"As if I haven't got that already.  You can do better." 

"I'll…  wax your katana?" 

"You think I'd let you touch it?  Wrong." 

"Come on, Aya!  It's not like you'll be totally inconvenienced by this, right?  Isn't my life worth it to you?" 

"Actually, I _will_ be inconvenienced.  Do you know where Yoji gets that stuff?  It's across town.  And it's always crowded.  You'll have to make it up to me somehow."  

"Please," Ken pleaded.  "I'll do anything for you, I'll let you think of it later!  Just do this for me!"  

For the briefest second, the corners of Aya's mouth twitched up into an unmistakable smile.  

"Anything…  All right, Ken.  I'll do it."  

"You will?  Awesome!  Come on Omi," he said, hurrying over and grabbing the younger boy.  "You're coming with me.  To protect me.  And plus, you're just so full of good ideas, nothing can go wrong if _you're_ around!"  

Yeah, Omi thought, right—if that's the truth, then why is this day _happening_?  

--------- 

Notes: Uh…  This should've been longer, but I felt like posting it, because according to my reviews, I guess I didn't mention that this was going to be a multi-parter.  I didn't want to leave people hanging, there, so here's more!  And there's more to come, still!  So s-s-s-stick around.  

(Insert standard disclaimer HERE)  


	3. Chapter Three

Aya was really, really, _really_ tired.  

He didn't much want to be awake, and he really didn't want to go to Yohji's salon.  It was always, _always_ filled with women.  It wasn't that Aya didn't like women.  He just didn't like women in large numbers, because in large numbers, they baffled him, pure and simple.  They laughed hysterically over things that weren't especially funny.  They talked in shrill, loud voices.  He knew all of this from personal experience—mostly at the flower shop.  And while, true, the women who hung around at the place where Yohji got his hair cut were older than the girls who hung around at the Koneko, well… He'd noticed that they sort of regressed when they were in big groups like that.  And it was especially bad when they were talking about hair, hair products, and makeup.  He knew this from experience, as well, with his sister and _her_ friends—he didn't know how Yohji could stand it for as long as it took to get his hair cut.  

And anyway, Aya was tired.  So very tired.  Hey, did I mention how tired Aya was?  

At this point, you're probably wondering why Aya was so tired.  

The fact was, Aya was an incredibly slow reader.  Yes, he was very slow, but still, he loved to read.  He read everything he could get his hands on, and hence was a fountain of trivia and knowledge.  He adored watching Jeopardy, but he wasn't one of those dorks who has to say the answers out loud—it was satisfying enough for him just to know them in his head, and it was wonderful to see the correct answer pop up on the screen.  When the players were stupid and got all the wrong answers, he death-glared them.  This, too, was strangely satisfying, in its own way.  …Or at least it had been until Yohji had caught him doing it one day.  The blonde had given him the strangest look and said, "What sort of freaky bad juju are you giving the TV, there, Aya?  We don't want to have to send it to get repaired, so whatever lover's quarrel you two are having, better get it resolved, okay?"  

Sometimes Aya hated that man.  

Which was why he was loathe to do him a favor like this.  Well, a roundabout favor, anyway.  He was really doing Ken the favor.  

…All right, fine, he wasn't doing Ken a favor, either.  He had maliciously twisted Ken's arm until he was assured of getting a favor in return.  

But it was something he had had to do.  You see, reader, in addition to being a slow reader, Aya was occasionally crippled with shyness—this especially held true in the presence of people he idolized.  

Aya paused in his walking a moment, in order to rest against a conveniently placed telephone pole.  _God_, but he was tired.  He shouldn't have stayed up so late reading.  …But at least he'd _finally_ found out what happened to Torrie and Jack!  It had been such a wonderful novel—Harlequin novels were really wonderful pieces of work.  It was about a girl named Torrie, who was secretly, passionately in love with her boss, Jack.  Little did she know, but Jack was in love with _her_, too!  …But Torrie didn't want Jack to think that she thought of him that way, and so she went to a stylist every day after work and got a makeover, so that she could slip into her _secret_ identity—Renee Mystérieux.  And she met Jack at a bar, every night, as Ms. Mystérieux, and they fell passionately in love.  It was all very steamy, until suddenly Torrie realized that Jack had not fallen in love with her, but rather with Renee!  

That part had almost made Aya cry.  

But once again, little did Torrie know that Jack was onto her little plan!  He had known all along that Renee was really Torrie in disguise.  He only went along with it so that her feelings wouldn't be hurt, and stuff.  

It was very touching.  Especially in the dramatic ending scene, in which Torrie ripped off her Renee wig, shrieking, "Take me Jack!  I've always loved you!", to which Jack replied, "And I you, Torrie!"  And then they made passionate love on a desk.  

He'd been up until four a.m. finishing it.  But it had been worth it.  …If only he could find a coffee shop.  

No, Aya, he told himself; you have to be strong, you need that favor from Ken—and to receive the favor, you have to go to the salon.  

Yes!  He pushed himself off of the telephone pole with new resolve.  He needed that favor from Ken _desperately_.  He would get it no matter what.  

Notes: Wow, that was really short.  I suck so much at writing Aya, so I'm sorry that this lacked… uh, depth.  And stuff.  …I actually wrote this just now, desperately attempting to avoid writing an essay on the Scarlet Letter.  Which is due on Tuesday.  Hell, I still have a day, right?!  

Oh, and also, you might have noticed that I switched to a different spelling of Yohji's name.  I decided I like it better with an "h."  So there.  

sans_dio@yahoo.com 


	4. Chapter Four

            "Ah, Omi," Ken sighed, leaning backwards in his chair precariously.  "You're such a genius."  

Omi had decided that they would go to one of his favorite restaurants—one that none of the other members of Weiss knew about.  It was a place where he hung out almost exclusively with his other school friends, far away from the Koneko.  Far away from his school.  Essentially, pretty damn far from every important landmark.  

That was part of the charm, you see.  

It was a cute little bistro that was, in a way, reminiscent of the flower shop—partially because of the large number of potted plants, and partially because of the large amounts of young females dining there.  

Omi liked it.  It always seemed to be sunny inside, and the plants definitely added to it.  He'd grown rather fond of plants in the time he'd worked at the Koneko, after all. 

"Omi, Omi, Omi," Ken said again, contentedly.  He'd been telling Omi what a genius he was for the last ten minutes or so.  Repeatedly.  

Not that Omi minded, or anything.  

"You know what the best part of this is?" Ken asked, leaning over the table toward Omi.  

"What?" Omi asked suspiciously.  Ken had that _look_ again, and so he wondered aloud, "Do I really _want_ to know, Ken?" 

Ken grinned rakishly.  

"The best part is, once Aya gets that hair shit, I don't _have_ to do him a favor!  It's not like Yohji will still want to kill me then, so what do I have to worry about?" 

Omi balked at the absurdity of this.  

"Hello?  Ken?!  You'll have to worry about _Aya_ wanting to kill you!" 

"Nah…" Ken replied nonchalantly.  "He won't be mad.  He'll probably forget all about it by then anyway, Omi.  Pretty soon I'll be in the clear, and I'll still have shiny hair!"  

Omi blinked. 

"Why, Ken," he said.  "I've never seen this side to you before.  I didn't know you could be so… so…" 

Ken raised his eyebrows expectantly.  

"Cunning?" he asked, grinning.  

"Duplicitous," Omi confessed.  

Ken continued grinning.  

"Is that a good thing?" he asked, still oozing puerile happiness.  

Omi shook his head sadly and looked at the menu once again.  

"Hey, you know what else?" Ken asked excitedly.  

"…what?" Omi asked hesitantly.  

"Now that Yohji'll have a full bottle of conditioner again, I can keep using it every day!  I'll _always_ have shiny hair!  Forever!" Ken giggled.  

Omi was a little bit afraid by this point, and, despite the fact that they'd escaped Yohji's grasp, his bad feeling hadn't gone away entirely…  

**

Somewhere else entirely, Crawford stopped walking, clutched at his temples, and crumpled to the ground.  Three feet ahead of him, Shuldig also stopped walking.  

"What?  What happened?" the telepath asked, although it was obvious from his tone that he really didn't much care, except for the fact that Crawford's distress was delaying him.  

"Paaaiiiin," Crawford wheezed out.  

Now slightly more worried, Shuldig took a step toward his fallen comrade. 

"What happened?" he asked again. 

"I just… saw… the most hideous thing…" 

"What?!  Where?" 

"Here," Crawford said enigmatically, tapping his forehead.  

"…You know, I just thought of something.  If I can read minds, and you can see the future, then shouldn't I be able to mind-read your predictions, and thus be a prophet, myself?"  

"…Uh, right, Shuldig." 

"So anyway, what did you just see?" 

Crawford shuddered violently.  

"Buy me a drink," he said, "And I'll tell you."  

**

Omi was about to remark on how _stupid_ Ken was being, and how dead he was _going_ to be, when suddenly there was a commotion at the front of the restaurant.  Suddenly, the people sitting near the large front window screamed and scattered, an occasional few looking back in terror at the window.  

Omi stood up quickly, unsure of what was going on.  He glanced up at the window, and suddenly he saw.  

"Oh, _GOD_!" Omi shrieked, pressing his hands to his cheeks.  "He's gone _insane!_"  

Ken, who had been basking in the glory of his shiny hair, failed completely to notice the ruckus.  He looked up as Omi yelled.  

"What—" he started to ask, but was cut off as the glass of the front window exploded inward, allowing a car, of all things, through.  

A car named Seven, to be specific.  

Ken and Omi both dove underneath overturned tables in order to protect themselves. 

"Come out, come out, wherever you are…" Yohji crooned, stepping out of the car.  Omi could hear the door slam shut, and the crackle of broken glass under Yohji's feet.  He dared a peak over the edge of his table.  

Now, instead of a hat, as he had previously had on, Yohji wore a swim cap, which was also duct-taped to the sides of his face.  

But it wasn't just any swim cap—oh no.  It had flowers all over it.  It was just like a 1950s horror film, Omi decided.  …One in which June Cleaver loses it.  

"Ken," Yohji said sweetly, taking another step forward.  And then, once more, "_Ken,_" only it was a growl this time.  

"…It's only a matter of time, precious," Yohji said sweetly again.  "After all, I tracked you all the way _here_—finding you now should be no difficulty."  

He paused, and Omi could hear him moving around again.  Unfortunately, Omi could _not_ see where Ken had chosen to hide.  

"And when I _do_ find you," Yohji continued in that same sweetly malicious voice, "I'm going to cover you in honey and tie you to a tree.  With a wasp's nest."  

Be strong, Ken, Omi thought.  He tried to project waves of fortitude to Ken, wherever he was.  

"And then, I'm going to get you down from the tree, and I'm going to tie you up in the garage.  And I'm going to beat your stupid crotch-rocket-motorcycle into shrapnel with a tire iron.  While you watch."  

"_Be strong, Kenken!_" Omi continued to think.  

"Then I'm going to dress you like a woman and hang you upside down from a tree in city park, where everyone can see you and laugh at you!  

"And still, _none of it will compare _to the anguish you've caused my hair.  I'll _never recover_, Hidaka Ken!  I hope you feel _good_ about yourself!  I hope you're _happy_!"  

Omi heard Yohji take another step.  He peaked around his table again in time to see Yohji violently kick a fallen chair.  

"Still not scared, are you?  Well if that's not enough…  I'm going to go into your room, Ken, and I'm going to break every trophy you've ever won.  And you know what else?  I'm going to hide your ball-pump.  And then… I'm going to deflate every single one of your soccer balls."  

"_Shit_," was all Omi could manage to think.  

And across the room, Ken whimpered softly.  

Yohji acted quickly, and before Omi knew quite what had happened, he had Ken out from behind the table and against the wall.  

"You _scum bag_," Yohji hissed at Ken.  "I _will_ get you for this.  I _will_."  

Omi stood up slowly from behind his own table.  

"Yohji, please," he begged.  "You know that you don't really mean this.  It's not really a big deal, Yohji.  Please…don't do any of that.  Please?"  Omi gave Yohji his _best_ puppy dog eyes, _ever_.  

Yohji's expression softened for a minute, but then hardened once again. 

"You betrayed me, too!" he yelled across the restaurant.  "You _lied_, saying you hadn't seen Ken!  I trusted you!"  

"Yohji, you're—" 

"SILENCE!" Yohji shouted, pulling a gag and rope out of his pockets.  He proceeded to truss Ken up like a piggy goin' to market.  Ken's eyes shone with mortal fear the whole time.  Yohji, once finished, pushed him toward the car.  Ken moved obediently, resigned to his fate.  

"Coming?" Yohji asked Omi sweetly once he was back in the driver's seat. 

Omi sighed.  As if he had a choice.  


	5. Chapter Five

He had made it.

Against all odds, against the dragging need for sleep, the pull of his desire to run the hell away from the stupid salon, and the dark clouds that now crowded the sky, portending rain, he had made it.  

He stood in front of the intimidating, gold rimmed, glass double-doors that lead into the fourth circle of hell—Yohji's salon.  

Aya swallowed bravely.  He would do it—for Torrie.  And Jack.  And because he was really starting to think that punishing Ken would be a _very_ good thing.  

As Aya was building up the courage to enter the building, a middle aged woman with makeup at _least_ an inch thick swooped past him on her way out.  As she opened the door, a wave of smell hit him—perming solution, perfume, the smell of nail polish remover, and of nasty, heavily scented hair products.  

He almost lost his nerve right there.  

"Do it for Torrie," he muttered to himself, and then he pushed the door open. 

The smell was utterly horrendous inside, without any promise of clean air to put a damper on it.  He grasped at the coat rack by the door for support. 

"Must… be…  strong…" he said through clenched teeth.  He pulled himself back up, and managed to make it to the counter.  He was getting a headache already.  

            "Well, hello, sweety!" the woman at the counter chirped.  She was also middle-aged, only with hair dyed blonde and cut stylishly short about her face.  And, since no one could smell anything much over the perm solution, she had apparently felt the need to use half a bottle of Chanel on herself that morning.  She also had about an inch of cleavage showing over the top of her shirt, and she looked like she had spent just a _little_ too much time at the tanning booth in her younger days.  

"Is there something I can help you with?" the woman asked, leaning forward, and revealing even _more_ cleavage.  "Did you have an appointment?" 

"Uhh…"  Her perfume was slowly melting his mind, he was being hypnotized by the disgustingly wattled flesh of her bosom.  

"Yes?" she asked again. 

"Uhh…" 

The woman sighed patiently.  

"You're here to pick something up for your girlfriend, aren't you?" 

His head snapped up.  

"NO!  …It's a favor!  For a friend of a friend!  That's all!  That's it!  There's nothing going on, I swear!" 

The woman looked slowly to her left, and then her right, as if the said friend might be hiding somewhere in the vicinity.  

"Right," she finally said, nodding.  "Just tell me what it is, and I'll point you in the right direction." 

"Conditioner," he said firmly, finally glad to know that he had a handle on at least _one_ thing. 

The woman looked unimpressed. 

"What kind?" she asked, raising one perfectly-plucked eyebrow.  

Well, shit.  

"Uhh…" he said again.  "It makes your hair really shiny.  I know that much."  

She nodded slowly, clearly he needed to tell her more.  

"I don't know!" he said in exasperation.  "I don't need your help.  I would know it if I saw the bottle.  Where do you keep the conditioner around here?"  

She pursed her lips.  

"Right this way, sir."  

She lead him through the area where people were getting their hair done, and to the back—to a wall that he had previously not noticed: 

A wall covered entirely, from top to bottom, with bottles of hair products.  

"Oh… God…" he mumbled, awed.  

"Well!" the woman said sweetly, clapping her hands.  "Do you happen to see it any where, or do you think you might need my help, after all?" 

He sighed in defeat. 

"_Fine_.  Where should I start?" 

"What hair type does this 'friend of a friend' have?" 

"…Blonde."  

"No, hon, I mean, is her hair dry—" 

"His." 

"All right, then.  Is his hair dry?  Fine?  Oily?  Permed?  Color treated?  Frizzy?" 

"Frizzy!  It's frizzy!" 

"All right, then.  That narrows it down some," she beamed, taking several steps to the left.  "Here's the section for 'frizz control.'  Now, is his hair frizzy due to sun exposure?  Due to coloring?  Due to frequent swimming?  Due to bad diet?  Due to excessive use of the word 'inevitably?'" 

"…_What_?  I don't know!"  

She sighed.  Again.  

"Is he a regular client here?" 

"…I think so." 

She rolled her eyes—implying that he _obviously_ should have brought this up sooner. 

"Can you give me his name?" 

"Kudou Yohji."  

Her eyes went wide. 

"Oh… God…" she breathed.  "Do you know what you could have done just now, young man?" she snapped.  "You could have undone in one instant what I've worked on for _years_ to achieve!"  She stalked a few feet to the right, shoving Aya roughly out of the way in the process.  "His hair is not _frizzy_.  It's_ wavy and dry.  _I wouldn't expect everyone to know the difference, but it's really very important!"  She pulled a bottle off of the shelf and handed it to Aya.  "Here.  _This_ is what Yohji needs. Hmmph!" she said, flipping her own hair.  "How can you be so casual about something so important?"  

"I'm… sorry…" Aya said, rather insincerely.  

"You know, as long as you're here, you could get your _own_ hair taken care of, since it's obvious that it hasn't been done in a long time.  Who did you have do the colouring, anyway?  Your little brother?" 

"This is my natural color!" 

"Mmm-hmm," she said, nodding skeptically.  "And I'm the Queen of Spain.  Since you're a 'friend of a friend' of Yohji's, I'll even give you a consultation half-price." 

"A consultation?" 

"Yes!"  She grabbed his arm and pulled him forcibly to a chair.  He struggled, but she was a lot stronger than she looked.  

"Hey!  I don't _want_ you to do my hair.  I like my hair just fine, okay?" he protested.  

"Yeah, uh-huh.  Ear-tails are so three years ago." 

"What!  Excuse me, I'd like to pay for the conditioner and leave, please," he said, standing up. 

"Trust me," she said, pushing him back into the chair.  "You need this."  

He started to stand again, but she pushed him back once more.  

"Stop being difficult.  I have ways of making you comply with my wishes!" she growled, and then reached over and pressed a button on the chair.  Suddenly, metal bands flipped out over his wrists and feet, effectively trapping him in his place. 

"What are you _doing_?" he said as calmly as possible, trying not to let the panic he now felt show through.  He had faced things more dangerous than this in the past, after all!

"Don't worry," she said, smiling, and pulling out a bottle of what appeared to be perfume.  It was labeled "KATRINA'S PERFUME OF SEMI-ETERNAL SLUMBER," which frightened Aya more than a little.  "Oh, this is old, by the way," the woman continued, looking at the bottle.  "It's not semi-eternal anymore, it's closer to 'just long enough to give you a good hair-cut!'" She broke into hysterical laughter, pulling a surgical mask over her face.  She sprayed the bottle very near his nose.  

"Don't worry," she said again, as he felt himself begin to nod off.  "This won't hurt a bit…"  

Notes: Ehh.  I don't have any notes this time.  I just hope you're all enjoying reading this!  ^_^ If you want to, drop me a line:  sans_dio@yahoo.com 

Thanks for reading!  


	6. Chapter Six

            "Chain smoker!"  

This was, sadly, the worst insult that Ken could muster.  However, because of the gag, it came out more like, "Mmmfoker!"  

"What did you call me?" Yohji asked, turning away from where he was sharpening several long utensils commonly used for hot-dog roasting. 

"MMMFOKER!  I cuhlled 'ou a MMFOKER," Ken yelled very carefully.    

"Excuse me!—you don't even _know_ my mother.  Uppity conditioner thief!"  

 Omi sighed and, for the sake of communication, removed the gag from Ken's mouth. 

"I said 'chain smoker!'" Ken cried.  

"…You called me a chain smoker?"  

"Yes!  Yes sir!  You're an evil, chain-smoking _fiend_!"  

"I am _not_ a chain smoker." 

"Yes, you are."  

"If I'm not at this moment smoking, then by definition I really _can't_ be a chain smoker, now can I?" Yohji asked, turning and waving the hot-dog-skewer.  

"I… uh… I…"  Ken stuttered, and then hung his head.  "No, sir."  

"I _thought_ not.  Omi!  Restore the gag."  

"Yes, sir."  

Yohji smirked.  Getting them to call him "sir" had been a good idea.  …But it wouldn't make up for his hair.  _Nothing_ would make up for his hair.  

"Omi!" he screeched suddenly, turning sharply with freshly sharpened skewers in hand.  "Fetch me the objects of _torture_."  

"Yohji, it's not too late.  You can still resolve this like a civilized human being." 

"_Now, _Omittchi.  Or else I'll make the sentence _worse._"  

"No!" Omi cried passionately.  "I won't betray Ken like that—and if you were in the same situation, I wouldn't betray you, either, Yohji!  I'm not going to turn against my friends—any of them!  I shall remain neutral, like the great country Switzerland!"  

Yohji's eyes glinted dangerously.  

"Fine," he said.  "Then you, too, shall pay the price."  

Shortly, Omi found himself bound and gagged alongside Ken.  They exchanged a glance as Yohji re-entered the room, a soccer ball in each hand.  He sat them both down a few feet in front of Ken and then sat down behind them.  He stroked one lovingly as he reached around to grab one of the hot-dog skewers.  Ken's eyes widened and filled with tears, and he strained forward against his bonds.  

Yohji grinned wickedly, held the skewer dramatically above his head, and brought it down sharply into the soccer ball's side.  Air hissed out as he raised in and brought it down again and again, until all that remained was a lumpy black and white husk.  

Ken screamed through his gag, and abruptly passed out. 

Yohji looked put-out.  

"How the hell am I supposed to torture him if that's all he can take?"  

"He mubms roh vulls rerry much, Rohri!" 

"…What?  Oh, never mind," Yohji said, reaching over and yanking the gag away. 

"He loves those balls very much, Yohji, I said."  

"Ah," Yohji said, replacing the gag.  "I'll just wait 'til he wakes up, then." 

***  

"Here?" Shuldig asked, obviously disbelieving of his fearless leader.  

"Yes, here.  I have seen it," Brad replied, nodding wisely.  

"That's odd," Nagi muttered.  "I didn't think any of the members of Weiss were _literate_."  

Farfarello just stood imposingly behind Nagi, glancing around at the bookshelves.  

Brad nodded again.  

"I have seen it," he repeated cryptically. 

"Right," Nagi said, nodding. 

Shuldig nodded as well.  

"…I wonder if they have any _Precious Moments _Bibles," Farfarello said softly.  

"_What_?" Nagi asked, again practicing his sullen, I'm-fifteen-so-leave-me-the-fuck-alone scowl. 

"We're out of toilet paper," Farfarello replied, staring off into the distance.  

The rest of Schwarz shared a look, but didn't say anything.  They didn't have to. 

"It won't be long, now," Brad said, finally.  "Not long at all."  

"Dear God," Nagi replied.  "I should hope not."  

Notes: First of all, I want to thank you ALL for all the reviews you've given me!  ^.^ I've never gotten so many reviews!  Thanks especially to Marsupial, Ayako, Lunar Child, and BunjyGuM-Boy, who all reviewed not once, but TWICE.  …Sorry if I missed you in that list.  You can leave another irate review telling me to add you immediately, if you want.  ^_~  And now for a few special notes: 

To Marsupial: Yes, they would hate you at Yohji's salon.  The Salon Lady of Doom would INSIST you dye your hair back to its original colour IMMEDIATELY, if not sooner.  And if you resisted, she would strap YOU TOO into the chair.  And possibly she would gag you.  In this respect, she and Yohji would get along quite famously.  Also, she would probably insist that you go to the tanning booth.  Everyone should have that freshly baked, melanoma-welcoming "glow."  

To Lunar Child: It amuses me greatly that you were eating pancakes while reading this the first time you reviewed.  ;.; I'm sorry I made your pancake fall of your plate, though.  POOR PANCAKE!  

To Keeshe Kal'Daka:  Yeah, it's going to be KIND of Ranken…  In the sense that Ken's favour is going to be very…  ::evil laughter:: Intimate and embarassing.  In a way.  

To Nagi-no-miko: If Aya can make that stupid orange sweater look less-than-hideous, then he can sure as hell work those ear-tail-things.  

            Nagi: ::SCOWL, DEATH GLARE:: And STOP TOUCHING ME!  

            Shuldig: ::edging away:: Now, Nagi, it's only because she loves you—

            Nagi: XP  

            Farfarello: ^_^ Forgive her, Nagi, she knows not what she does… 

            Schuldig and Nagi: O.O 

            Shuldig: Did he… just… almost quote scripture at us?!  

            Nagi: O.O;;  

To everyone else who was kind enough to review: THANKS SO MUCH!  ^_^ 

BTW, sorry this part was so short.  …I actually only thought this was going to be four chapters.  O.o So much for that!  

sans_dio@yahoo.com 


	7. Chapter Seven

They were in the kitchen, now.  

Frankly, the thing with Ken's (soccer) balls just hadn't been going according to plan.  Yohji wanted to _agonize_ him, and hell, it just wasn't torture if he was just going to pass out when it started!  

So they had moved to the kitchen.  

Omi was still bound, only now he'd been allowed to sit on a chair at the kitchen table.  Ken, on the other hand, was gagged and tied _to _a chair.  However, he wasn't fortunate enough to be sitting upright.  Oh, no.  Yohji had tipped the chair over so that its back, and for this reason, Ken's, were on the ground.  

It's also worth mentioning that he'd given Ken a full makeover, including eye-shadow, blush, bright red lipstick, and a _very_ stylish hat.  

 It would probably be worth wondering just exactly _why_ Yohji had so much makeup (and such a stylish hat) laying around, but, of course, only his hairdresser knows for sure.  And, as you've probably noticed if you've been reading along this whole time, she was occupied with other things at the moment.  But I digress.

Yohji himself was standing at the kitchen counter, wearing a lab coat.  And goggles.  Notably, the goggles were Ken's.  Life's kinda ironic like that, sometimes.  

Anyway, Yohji was standing at the counter in a lab coat and Ken's goggles, mixing one of the most hideously horrifying substances known to man:  

Bikini Wax.  

It would probably be worth wondering just exactly _why _Yohji had bikini wax laying around, but—ahh, screw it.  I'll let you conjecture about that on your own time.  

Yohji turned slowly to face Ken and Omi, and pulled a butter knife out of his lab-coat pocket.  Ever so slowly he stirred the foul concoction, and then removed the knife once more, letting it drip back into its container.  

Ken looked absolutely horrified.  Seeing this, Yohji broke into maniacal laughter.  Again. 

"Now comes the _ultimate _suffering for you, Hidaka Ken!" he said shrilly, crossing the room to where Ken was tied up.  

Omi summoned up the courage to speak once more. 

"Uhh… Yohji?  Don't those things come with little sticks to apply it with?  Why are you using a butter knife?" 

"Silence, peon!" Yohji shrieked.  He was getting way, _way _too into the mad scientist thing—he had even taken the bathing cap off again, giving him sort of a young-Albert-Einstein-gone-terribly-_terribly_-wrong look.  Sort of.  

Anyway, it got Omi to shut up.  Yohji turned to his victim once more.    

"Ohh, Kenken.  Where to start?" Yohji asked sweetly—and rather rhetorically, since Ken was still gagged.  "Your eyebrows?  Maybe your head?" 

"Well, if it's bikini wax, like the bottle says—"Omi started, helpfully.  He stopped, however, at the violent shaking of Ken's head. 

Yohji gave him a _look_, and then shook his head, turning back to Ken once more.  

"You know what, _Kenken_?  I think, since you've got all this pretty makeup on, I should just start with your _legs.  _That way you'll look absolutely stunning in the cute little dress I've picked out for you to wear to city park.  Remember?—I'm going to tie you to a tree." 

Ken stared Yohji defiantly in the eyes, as if to say, "Kudou Yohji, you will never get away with this dastardly deed!" 

"Ruhro Rohri," he said through the gag, "Rou ih heffar geh awuh wis sis dasfarly reed!"  

"…What did you just call me?" Yohji asked, because unlike some exceptionally lucky people, he didn't get a spiffy, all-knowing narrator to help him figure out the dialogue.  

Omi shook his head in pity.  Omi, see, had a lot of experience with gags, and understanding what was being said through them.  It would probably be best if you didn't ask why, but let's just say that Nagi might be able to clue you in—if you survived asking him, anyway.  

"Never mind," Yohji said stubbornly, putting the knife back into the wax and pulling out a large glob of it.  With his other hand, he pulled Ken's pant leg up to the knee.  Ken continued to look defiant and brave—he had been a wuss with the soccer balls, after all, but he wouldn't let Yohji intimidate him any longer!  

"Well, Ken," Yohji chirped.  "Better say 'bye-bye' to all of your body hair!"  And then he proceeded to spread the wax on Ken's leg like mustard on a sandwich.  

Yohji hummed happily as he did this, and then sat back to let it dry.  After a few minutes, he reached for the end of it, ready to yank…  

"_WAIT_!" cried a voice from the doorway.  Yohji looked up.  Ken looked up.  Omi looked up.  

Aya stood in front of them.  His hair had been given blonde highlights, and it seemed to glitter all over…  as if someone had unleashed a preschool art class on his head.  Where his eartails had once blown free—much like a herd of wild horses—they were now confined in, of all things, two suede straps, which ended in beads, and feathers, giving him kind of a Native American Princess look (and reinforcing the herd of wild horses simile above).  

In short, Aya was an example of how, sometimes, fashion goes too far.  

But, the most notable thing about Aya was the bottle of conditioner he held out in his right hand, wielding the expensive hair product almost as though it were Excalibur.  

Yohji squealed delightedly, ripped the goggles off, leaped over Ken, and knocked Aya over in a frenzy of excitement.  In this same frenzy of excitement he straddled the now prone Aya's chest, grabbed a hold of his face and planted several delighted kisses on his cheeks.  

"Aya, Aya, I LOVE YOU.  You're my _savior_, my absolute _savior_!" he cried ecstatically, kissing Aya again.  …Suddenly he seemed to remember where he was, and just who he was kissing so exuberantly.  He cleared his throat, took the much-needed conditioner from Aya's hand, and moved away from him.  

This didn't stop him from squealing happily again as he walked away.  Or from jumping into the air and clicking his heels together on the way out.  

"I'll be in the shower, if anyone needs me!" he called out gaily.  

Aya sat back up, slightly dazed, and surveyed the kitchen around him.  

Ken, tied to chair.  Wearing makeup.  Something odd and yellowish on his leg.  Look of desperation in his eyes. 

Omi, tied, but not to chair.  Otherwise apparently unharmed.  Look of intense relief in his eyes. 

"Aya," he said, "I'm so happy to see you that I'm not even going to ask what the hell happened to your hair."  

"That's nice of you, Omi," Aya said, getting to his feet.  He quickly untied first Ken, and then Omi.  

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you, Ayaaaaaaa!" Ken cried piteously, grabbing a hold of the other man's leg.  "I almost _died_.  I swear, as long as I live, I'll never steal conditioner again!"  He sniffled, then, and looked up at Aya with huge, puppy-brown eyes.  

"Don't tell that to _me_," Aya said coldly, and then… smiled.  The feeling of fear returned to Ken's heart at Aya's next words.  

"Remember, Ken-kun, you still owe _me _a favor…"  

Notes: CLIFFHANGER!  D 

By the way, I don't know how waxing actually works, never having done it, myself.  I apologize for any inaccuracies in Yohji's, er, "technique."  

 ^.^;;; This also had some ACTUAL shounen-ai hintings, unlike any of the other chapters.  They were… pretty pathetic, though.  So I apologize.  This really isn't going to be terribly shounen-ai-ish, as I think I mentioned earlier.  You can pretend, though, if you want.  Or you can ask Yohji's hairdresser.  Either one works.  ^_^  

'Til next time!  

sans_dio@yahoo.com 


	8. Chapter Eight

"Aaaaaaya, this isn't _fair_," Ken complained.  

"Don't tell me about fair," Aya said, scratching his head in an attempt to get the glitter off.  

"But, _Aya…_"  Ken opened and closed his mouth impotently.  He knew that he wouldn't get anywhere.  

"Ken, I couldn't have done this alone.  I get so shy around people I admire."  

Ken and Aya stood in a very long line of women—young women, older women, mothers with their daughters, older women with their friends.  All of them held a copy of Torrie and Jack's story firmly in one of their hands.  At the head of the line was a woman sitting at a table, signing copies.  

"Laura Roberts," Aya sighed, clutching his own copy to his chest.  "Can you believe that _Laura Roberts_, the best authoress in the _world_ is here, signing books?  _Here_?"  

"No, Aya," Ken sighed in defeat. "I simply cannot." 

From the other side of the store, Schwartz spied, and… giggled girlishly.  

"There are exactly _two_ men in that line," Farfarello whispered to Nagi.  "No one would ever guess that they're assassins."  

Nagi's eyes narrowed slightly. 

"What, are you saying that there's something wrong with men reading romance novels?  Are you saying that it's… unmanly?" 

Farfarello gave him an incredulous look.  

"Do _you_ know anyone who would read them?" he asked, peering through the crack between bookshelves again.  "The only things stupider than romance novels are…  Well, there's nothing stupider than romance novels." 

"At all?" 

"Nope." 

"Even basset-hounds aren't stupider?"  

"No, Nagi.  Nothing is stupider."  

Nagi, in response, cleared his throat slightly nervously, and fidgeted so that his own books, which he had picked out while waiting for Weiss to show up, were behind his back.  No one actually needed to know what he'd picked out, after all.  

  Yohji and Omi were also in the store, although they didn't feel the need to hide, as Schwartz did.  In fact, Yohji rather felt the need to gloat over Ken's predicament.  Oh, and flirt incessantly, not that that was an unusual occurrence, but after all, if all of these women were reading romance novels, they must be lonely for the real thing, right…?  

"Look at my hair," he commanded to one of the younger and more attractive redheads in line.  "Isn't it _shiny_?" he asked, smirking, and looking over to where Ken stood miserably.  

"It _is_," the woman replied, obviously awestruck by his wheat-gold locks, shining like nothing so much as, well, a field of wheat.  But really shiny wheat.  

He smiled at her in response, and she noticed that his teeth were also really shiny.  This effect was compounded by the harsh florescent lights, blinding half of the customers in the store.  

"Oww, Yohji!" Omi complained.  "Can't you turn that off or something?" 

"No," Yohji said, smirking.  "Why do you think I wear sunglasses all the time?"  

"I always thought that it was to hide how bloodshot your eyes are from being out so late all the time—" Omi started to reply, but was silenced by Yohji's hand over his mouth.  

"The kid's a bit deluded," he told the pretty redhead.  She nodded in shock—such… shiny… body parts…  It was more than one woman could handle.  

"Baby," he said, "we should ditch this place and go for a ride.  I just waxed my car, and you should _see_ the way it _sparkles_.  Just like the sun on morning dew…  Sort of like your eyes."  He winked.  She melted.  

"Free book!" she called, tossing her copy of Torrie and Jack's story over her shoulder, and walking off with Yohji.  

Omi sighed and shook his head.  

Yohji looked back at him and winked once more.  

"It's the hair," he mouthed, pointing at his head.  

Omi nodded bemusedly.  

Ironically, the abandoned copy of Torrie and Jack's story hit Ken squarely in the head. 

"Oh, look!" Aya squealed, picking it up.  "Now you have a copy for her to sign, too!  Isn't that exciting, Ken?" 

"You're uncharacteristically perky," Ken replied, rubbing the sore spot on his head.  

"Well," Aya replied conspiratorily to Ken, "you know how I've been _so _tired all day?" 

"Yes," Ken said, nodding.  

"I had _coffee_!" Aya chirped in reply, squeezing Ken's arm in excitement.  

"I  foresaw this," Brad said from behind his own book shelf across the store.  

"How can you live with that?" Schuldig asked, awed.  "I would kill myself if I had to deal with visions like that all the time." 

"You learn to live with it," Brad replied.  "And anyway, the free porn is nice—" 

"What?  Free porn?" 

"Oh, sure," Brad replied.  "You should see what I foresaw for them _tonight_…"  

********* 

            FIN

Notes: Sorry that took so damned long.  I've been busy.  But of _course _when I have an essay due the next day, you can count on me getting the next part of something out.  Because I'm good at procrastination.  

Anyway, anyway…  Now you all know what Aya wanted, and, fine, it's not overtly shounen-ai-ish, but you can all pretend to be psychics along with Brad.  Even though he might have been talking about Yohji and the redhead, or Omi and, uh, eggo waffles fresh outta the toaster.  You just never can tell.  

Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed this—the first multi-part fanfic I've ever completed.  Joy to the world!! 

sans_dio@yahoo.com 


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